“Muriel Mortimer will never be mistress here,” he said in a hard voice, a trifle annoyed at her final remark. “You yourself have invited her here as my guest, and I am bound to be civil, but beyond that—well, I hope that we shall not meet again after this party breaks up.”
“And yet you want to know all about her, with the eagerness of an ardent lover!” she laughed sarcastically.
“I have reasons—strong ones,” he answered firmly.
Again she raised her eyes to his, but rather furtively, as though she were seeking to discover the reason of this sudden anxiety and was not quite sure of how much he knew.
“Then if you consider the matter of sufficient importance, why not ask Lady Meldrum herself?” she suggested. “To you she may perhaps give a more satisfactory answer.”
“How can I? Don’t be ridiculous, my dear Claudia,” said the Under-Secretary.
“Then if the girl is really nothing to you, let the matter drop,” she urged. “In what way does her parentage concern either you or me?”
“It does concern me,” he answered in a hard tone, his brow clouded by thought.
“How?”
“For reasons known only to myself,” he responded enigmatically. He was thinking of the colonel’s warning, which had been troubling him ever since breakfast. It was the irony of fate that he was now compelled to entertain the very woman against whom his best friend had uttered the strange words he recollected so well. He had broached the matter to Benthall, but it was evident that the latter was not aware of the colonel’s reasons for denouncing her as an undesirable acquaintance.